


When The Walls Come Down

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Community: hc_bingo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: It takes a long time for Harold to open up to John about his pain.





	When The Walls Come Down

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'chronic illness/pain' square on my hc_bingo card.
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6SnQpZlwAM) by Kings of Leon (It's a very Rinch song, but very painful. The fic is less angsty than the music.)
> 
> Also inspired by these lines from 1x04:
> 
> Harold: _My doctor's playing golf in the Caymans. I just need a refill on my pain medication._
> 
> Megan: _On a scale of one to five, how bad's your pain?_
> 
> Harold: _On a good day, three. Today is not a good day._

It takes a long time for Harold to open up to John about his pain.

 

It's not as though he can completely hide it, although he tries to conceal the worst. He is ashamed, although John never makes him feel that way. John is unfailingly polite, averting his gaze whenever Harold can't suppress a grimace or a gasp, allowing Harold to collect himself without comment. When Harold admits to a personal limitation regarding their work, John simply finds another way. He is not at all like Dillinger, who taunted Harold for being in the wheelchair.

 

And yet without Dillinger's betrayal, it would have taken Harold much longer to try to walk again.

 

Harold knows he has been lucky, to regain so much of his mobility. But he still has to be cautious about every movement, because if he twists his neck more than fifty degrees to one side or the other, he'll pay dearly for it.

 

Some days are harder than others. When a number requires him to go out in the field and there is any kind of physical altercation involved, Harold can expect to spend the following day unable to move. Lying in bed, directing John through the earpiece, keeping him busy enough that he won't have time to come to the library and find out that Finch isn't there.

 

On less bad days, Harold makes it out of bed and into their secret headquarters. He sits stiffly at his desk, inwardly counting to one hundred to bear his pain. He is exceptionally good at making it through smaller chunks of time that way. And John's presence is a welcome distraction. Sometimes Harold will glance at John, particularly after one of his awful jokes, and be filled with such love and affection. Harold looks at this beautiful man beside him and finds that his pain is not gone, but he can better master it, subdue it, bind it to his will, keep breathing through the next one hundred seconds, and the next, until he no longer needs to count.

 

After they become romantically involved, it becomes necessary to talk about it. In bed, John is infinitely careful with him, often too careful, when Harold needs to feel more of him, more pleasure to wash away the discomfort. Slowly, Harold finds ways to express this, that won't embarrass and frustrate them both.

 

The closer they become, the less John looks away from Harold when he's hurting. The more he expresses his worry, mostly through touch. Harold absorbs John's strength through osmosis. John also knows plenty about coping with pain. John leans on Harold when he's bleeding. In return, when his back twinges, while there is no other urgent matter, Harold rests his head against John's chest and lets John hold him up. It's like he's fighting through the fog of it to appreciate John's touch sometimes, but eventually there is relief.

 

He still doesn't tell John how he came to be injured. Doesn't explain where he was the day of the ferry bombing, or what he saw when he woke up, when his neck could hardly support itself on his shoulders. When his heart could barely keep beating in his chest.

 

There are some walls that not even his absolute trust and faith in John can dismantle.

 

But there comes a day when Harold is able to say out loud: "I hurt", and not feel ashamed at the admission, nor guilt about inflicting the knowledge on John. He reaches out for comfort and John gives it. John climbs back into their bed, fits his warm body to Harold's frame. Holds Harold's hand, slotting his fingers between. "I'm here," he murmurs into Harold's skin, and kisses the nape of his neck, where parts of Harold's spine are fused together by metal and grafted bone.


End file.
